Sherlock: The Blind Banker
by jam-kittens-rage
Summary: Basically the second episode of Sherlock, but with my own characters added to the madness.
1. Chapter 1 - The Row

_****I do not own Sherlock! I only own Sarafina and Liza Holmes! Credit for transcript goes to Ariane DeVere - LiveJournal.****_

Chapter 1

Liza wakes up to loud noises coming from downstairs. She figured it was Sherlock, just being his noisy self. She then hears what sounds like a struggle between Sherlock and… someone else. She slowly gets up and opens her bedroom door. She heads downstairs to see Sherlock and a heavily robed man fighting. She stands out of the way as the struggle continues. She lets it go for a little while longer as the robed man swings his sword again at Sherlock as he ducks. He then straightens up and points at Liza, who has now moved almost directly behind the man.

"Look!" Sherlock shouts. The man half-turns and Sherlock takes this opportunity to swing one hell of an uppercut to the man's chin. The man collapses, unconscious, into Sherlock's armchair. Sherlock straightens up and immediately dusts himself off, looking down at the unconscious man with distain. Liza stares at him. Sherlock looks at her. "Thank you for the distraction." She looks at him, confused.

"Um… sure." She looks down at the man lying in the middle of the living room. "What are you gonna do with him?"

"Not sure." Sherlock says. Liza nods and looks around.

"Where's John?"

"He went to get the shopping."

"Ah." There was a moment of silence and Sherlock grabs the man's hands.

"Ill grab the hands, you get the feet." Liza stares at him for a moment, but shrugs and decides to go with it. She grabs his feet and slowly, they start carrying the man out the door. "Hopefully this won't attract too much attention." Sherlock says. Liza laughs and continues out the door, body in tow.

* * *

Later, Sherlock and Liza are sitting calmly in the living room, Sherlock reading a book and Liza sitting upside down on the couch playing with something on her phone. John walks up the stairs and stops just inside the room and looks around like he suspects that something happened when he was gone, but he wasn't sure what.

"You took your time." Sherlock said, not looking up.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." Liza stops with her phone and looks at John, still upside down as Sherlock looks at John indignantly over the top of his book.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine." John says tetchily. Sherlock lowers his book a little.

"You… you had a row with a machine?"  
"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" Sherlock nods towards the kitchen while holding back an amused smile.

"Take my card." John walks to the kitchen, but stops and turns to look at Sherlock.

"You could always go yourself, you know. You've both been sitting there all morning. You've not moved since I left." Sherlock briefly flashes back to where he had ducked under the sword the man had swung at him. He tries to be nonchalant and turns the page in his book while John picks up Sherlock's wallet and rummages through it. "And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?"

"Not interested." Sherlock says as he grabs a piece of paper to use as a bookmark and snaps the book shut. He looks down to see the man's sword still lying in view under his chair. He quickly puts his foot down and slides it further under the chair. "I sent them a message." Sherlock said firmly. He briefly flashes back to when he knocked the man out. John pulls out Sherlock's card, but notices the gauge on the table from when the man had pinned down Sherlock with his sword. He rubs it with his finger.

"Ugh. Holmes." He whispers. He looks at Sherlock and tuts pointedly. Sherlock innocently shakes his head and John turns and walks down the stairs, leaving the room. Sherlock immediately smirks.

John returns with the shopping, staggering up the stairs with several bags.

"Don't worry about me." John says sarcastically. Sherlock is just sitting at the dining table with his hands folded in front of his mouth, reading an email on a laptop. John sighs heavily and carries the bags to the kitchen and dumps them on the table. John turns and looks around. "Where's Liza?"

"Went to a movie with a 'friend'." He replies, moving his fingers in an air-quote around the word friend.

"What friend?"

"Lestrade's son." John stops.

"A boy?"

"Mhm…"

"You let her go to a movie. Alone. With a _boy_?" Sherlock sighs and looks at John.

"Its Lestrade's son. What's there to worry about?" John pauses.

"Let me spell it out for you. Liza; girl. Lestrade's son; boy. Boy, girl, dark room, unsupervised?" Sherlock continues staring at the screen. "You've no idea what I'm saying, do you?" Sherlock grunts and John sighs. "Never mind…" John looks at Sherlock and frowns. "Is that my computer?" Sherlock starts to type.

"Of course."

"What?!"

"Mine was in the bedroom."

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" Sherlock doesn't reply. "Its password protected!" John says indignantly.

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." He looks up at John. "Not exactly Fort Knox."

"Right, thank you." John says annoyed. He walks over and slams the lid down and Sherlock removes his fingers, just in time. He takes the laptop across the room and puts it on the floor next to his armchair and sits down. Sherlock puts his hands together and places them in front of his mouth and props his elbows on the table. John pick up a pile of envelopes from the small table beside his chair and frowns. "Oh." He says as he flips through them. He sees one that looks like a bill and shakes his head. "Need to get a job."

"Oh, dull." John puts the envelopes back on the table and looks at Sherlock for a moment, then glances at the bills again and leans forward awkwardly.

"Listen, um…" Just then, Liza walks in. John stops and looks at her. She looks at him.

"Hey, you're back. How's the shopping?" She shuts the door behind her and looks at John. He's staring blankly at her. "What?"

"How'd it go at the movie?"

"Fine." Liza says suspiciously. There was a pause and Liza realizes what he's talking about and looks at Sherlock exasperatedly. "You told him, didn't you?" Sherlock merely shrugs. Liza sighs and looks back at John. "Oliver's just a friend, John. A good friend who wanted to see a movie and invited me to come along." John continued to look at her accusingly. "Nothing happened, okay?!" John's gaze continues. "Ugh. Since when did I inherit a dad?!" She says and stalks off to her room. John smirks and turns to sit normally in his chair.

"Mission accomplished." He turns back to Sherlock, who's still staring into nowhere. He clears his throat and leans forward again. "So, if you'd be able to lend me some…" He stops. "Sherlock, are you listening?" Without turning around, Sherlock replies.

"I need to go to the bank." He gets up and heads downstairs, grabbing his coat off the hook as he goes. John frowns, gets up, and yells for Liza to follow. She comes out and follows John down the stairs as they try to catch up to Sherlock.

_**Well, here it is! First chapter of TBB! I hope you liked the little scene I added at the end where John finds out about Liza and Lestrade's son. A little backstory on the "little Lestrade". His name is Oliver and he's going to be in more and more scenes as the story continues. He's about the same age as Liza is, with a slight age difference (Oliver is only a couple of months older than Liza). Don't forget to review!**_


	2. Chapter 2 - The Painting

**_**I do not own Sherlock! I only own Sarafina and Liza Holmes!**_**

Chapter 2

Soon, they arrive at the entrance of the bank. Sherlock leads them through revolving glass doors to the inside of the bank. John looks around, impressed at the foyer, while Liza catches up to Sherlock.

"What exactly are we doing here?"

"You'll see."

"Another case?" He pauses.

"Yes." She smiles and follows him onto the escalator. Sherlock observes his surroundings, especially the security systems, which require cards to be swiped across an electronic reader to be able to pass through glass barrier gates. They reach the top of the escalator and Sherlock walks over to the reception desk. "Sherlock Holmes."

Later, they're being shown into Sebastian Wilkes' office as he walks in and grins at Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes." He says.

"Sebastian." He and Sherlock shake hands and Sebastian takes Sherlock's hand into both of his. Liza looks at John weirdly and he just shrugs.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sherlock looks at him, with marginally disguised dislike. Sebastian looks at John and me.

"This is my _friend_, John Watson and my niece, Liza."

"Friend?"

"Colleague." John replies.

"Right." They shake hands and Sebastian looks at John curiously. "Right." He briefly looks at Sherlock as if to say, 'Didn't think you had a _friend_'. He grins unpleasantly and scratches his neck. Sherlock's gaze, though, slips onto his watch. Sebastian turns away as John purses his lips, almost in dislike of the man. "Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

"Another chair?" Liza cuts in. Sebastian smiles.

"Of course." He nods to his secretary and she brings in another chair.

"Thank you." Liza says. She drags it over by Sherlock and sits down, contentedly and Sebastian sits down at his desk.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock starts.

"Well, some."

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" John and Liza frown in confusion, but Sebastian just points and laughs at Sherlock.

"Right. You're doing that thing." He looks at John. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Sherlock defends quietly.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story."

"Yes, I've seen him do it." John replies.

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him" Sherlock turns away and looks down, his face momentarily filling with pain. "You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

"I simply observed." Sherlock says quietly.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips in a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?" Sherlock opens his mouth to reply, but he wasn't done talking. "You're gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan." Sebastian says smugly and John smiles.

"No, I…"

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!" Sebastian interrupts. Sherlock simply looks at him for a moment before speaking.

"I was just chatting with your secretary outside. _She_ told me." John and Liza both frown and look at him, confused. Sebastian claps his hands together and becomes more serious.

"I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." He leads them over towards a different door. "Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The rooms been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asks.

"Nothing. Just left a little message." Sebastian holds his security card on the reader by the door, unlocking it. They see hanging on a white wall behind a large desk a painted portrait of a man in a suit – presumably the late Sir William Shad. On the wall to the left of the portrait, is what looks like a sprayed graffiti 'tag' in the yellow paint. It looks sort of like the number 8, but with the top of the number left open. Above it is a horizontal straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait is another horizontal straight line. Sebastian leads them towards the desk and steps aside to let Sherlock observe the wall. John moves to the other side of Sebastian and Liza follows as John looks at Sherlock expectantly as he concentrates on the graffiti. Sometime later, they are back in Sebastian's office, watching security footage of the office from the previous night. "Sixty seconds apart." Sebastian says as he flicks back and forth between the still taken at 23:34:01 that shows the paint on the wall and a minute earlier at 23:33:01, when there's no paint on the wall. "So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute."  
"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asks.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."

* * *

Back in the reception area, Sebastian shows them a screen on a computer that has a layout of the trading floor and the offices that surround it. Each door has a light against it that shows its security status.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night." Sherlock observes.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." He reaches into his breast pocket and takes out a cheque. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."  
"I don't _need_ an incentive, Sebastian." Sherlock says and walks away. John and Liza both watch him go, and John turns to Sebastian.

"He's, uh, he's kidding you, obviously." Liza laughs and plays along.

"Yeah. Let me take care of that for you." She grabs the cheque from him and looks at it. You can almost see the color fade from her face. John snatches it from her.

"Right. You can't go two seconds without losing your phone. I'll just look after that for him." Liza frowns and starts to feel her jeans. She laughs nervously.

"Uhm… anyone see where I put my phone last?" She dashes off towards Sebastian's office as John rolls his eyes. He looks at the cheque and shakes his head in disbelief that that's only the advance.

Sherlock returns to Sir William's office and takes photographs with his mobile phone of the graffiti. He takes several pictures and turns around, the symbols still floating around his mind's eye. He looks to his right to see a window with an impressive view of the Swiss Re Tower. He frowns and looks away for a moment and walks over to the windows and pulls open the blinds to reveal a door to a small balcony. He opens the door and walks out onto the balcony, observing the new of London before looking down at the long drop below him. He looks along the balcony, thoughtfully bits his lip, and heads back inside. Later, Liza finds herself grinning as she watches Sherlock dance around the trading floor. He ducks behind a desk and slowly rises upright, staring at the glass doorway to Sir William's office. He ducks sideways and hurries across the floor to the amusement of several workers and Liza. She continues to watch him as he scampers every which way to get different perspectives of the doorway. He continues dancing across the floor and suddenly twirls around a column and backs up towards a different office and stops. He wiggles about, eyes still fixed on Sir William's office, and goes into the office and heads over to the other side of someone's desk. There, he has a clear view of the top of the painting with the eyes crossed off with yellow paint. He, again, dances across the room to his previous position. This confirms that this is the only part of the floor that the portrait can be seen from. He heads out the door, looking for some sort of identification, and finds a name plate – Edward Van Coon. He slides it out of the holder and heads out.

Afterwards, Sherlock leads John and Liza towards the escalators.

"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him." John says and Sherlock just smiles. "How _did_ you know?"  
"Did you see his watch?"

"His watch?"

"The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice, but he didn't alter it."  
"Within a month? How'd you get that part?"

"New Breitling. Only came out this February."

"Okay. So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?"

"Got everything I need to know, thanks.

"Hmm?"  
"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and…" Sherlock trails off, allowing John to finish the sentence.

"…they'll lead us to the person who sent it." John finishes.  
"Obvious."

"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?"  
"Pillars." Liza stops.

"What?" She and John ask at the same time.

"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot."

"Does it?" Sherlock continues talking as he leads John and Liza out the revolving doors and out into the street.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." He holds up the name card to show John and Liza. "Not many Van Coons in the phonebook." He spots something. "Taxi!"

_**Sorry about the long wait for the update. Havent had a chance to update much. Anyways, heres the second chapter. Hope you like it so far. I havent gotten much feedback from people on how it is, so im assuming no one has any problems with it. Well, let me know how i did. :)**_


	3. Chapter 3 - Locked Doors

_****I do not own Sherlock! I only own Sarafina and Liza Holmes!****_

Chapter 3

They arrive in front of a block of flats where they pile out of the cab and walk up to the door buzzers on the side of the building. Sherlock presses the button to Van Coon's flat and looks at the security camera above the buzzers. He waits a couple seconds before pressing it again. No answer.

"So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asks. Sherlock looks at the buzzers and then backs up and observes the block of flats. Liza keeps observing the buzzers.

"Just moved in." She says, pointing to the buzzer above Van Coon's. Sherlock looks back and John frowns.

"What?" They say in unison.

"The one above it has a new label." She points to the buzzer with the name 'Wintle' hand-written on it.

"Could have just replaced it." John offers. Sherlock presses the buzzer.

"No-one ever does that." Then a woman's voice comes over the intercom.

"Hello?" Sherlock turns to the cameral and smiles brightly.

"Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." He says as he grins into the camera.

"No, well, uh, I've just moved in." Liza turns to John with an 'I told you so' look. John just rolls his eyes as Sherlock continues his act."

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in the flat." He says grimacing.

"D'you want me to buzz you in?"

"Yeah. And can I use your balcony?" Liza looks confused at Sherlock.

"What?"

* * *

As Sherlock flirts his way into Ms. Wintles' flat, John and Liza take the long way. Sherlock stands on Ms. Wintles' balcony, looks down below, and climbs over the side and drops down to the balcony outside Van Coon's flat. He, once again, looks over the edge, turns, and reaches for the door handle, which is luckily unlocked. He goes inside and walks through the living room, glancing at things on his way through the flat. He goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge, only to find it full of champagne bottles. The door of the flat buzzes as John yells to Sherlock from the other side.

"Sherlock. Sherlock, are you okay?"

"See any bodies?" Liza asks. John elbows her.

"Not so loud." He scolds. Meanwhile, Sherlock observes the bathroom, shuts the door, and walks over to a larger door that's closed. He tries the handle, but it's locked. "Yeah, anytime you feel like letting us in." John says.

Sherlock turns to the side and shoulder-charges the door which bursts open. He walks inside and finds a man in a suit and overcoat lying on his back on the bed. He was dead. He sees a pistol on the floor and a small bullet hole on the right temple of the man's head.

Later, the police arrive and a photographer is taking pictures of Van Coon's body on the bed. A forensics officer is seen dusting for prints on a mirror. Sherlock had removed his coat and was then putting on latex gloves in the bedroom as John and Liza watch.

"Told you there was a body." Liza says and John ignored the comment.

"D'you think he'd lost a _lot_ of money? I mean suicide is pretty common among city boys."

"We don't know that it _was_ suicide."

"I doubt it…" Liza mumbles.

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony." Sherlock squats down by the suitcase on the floor by the bed. Its lid is open and he observes its contents.

"Been away for three days, judging by the laundry." He looks closely and sees an indentation in the clothes inside the case. He straightens up and looks at John. "Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it."

"Thanks – I'll take your word for it."

"Problem?"

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear." Sherlock walks to the foot of the bed.

"Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. Why were they put there?"

"It could be a code." Liza jumped in.

"Obviously." He looks carefully at his legs – or maybe his shoes – and moves up and carefully opens the man's jacket and looks through the inside pockets. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?"

"Well, maybe he wasn't answering."

"Oh good. You follow."  
"No." Sherlock throws him a look and Liza laughs. He moves on to examine Van Coon's hands.

"What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?" John frowns in confusion.

"A threat." Liza adds. Sherlock gently pulls out an origami flower from Van Coon's mouth. He looks at Liza.

"Exactly." Just then, there was a man's voice coming from outside the bedroom.

"Bag this up, will you… and see if you can get prints off this glass." The man – a very _young_ man – walks into the bedroom. Sherlock turns and walks towards him.

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met." He offers his hand to him but the man puts his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." Sherlock lowers his hand and hands him the evidence bag.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"

"He's busy. _I'm_ in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." Sherlock looks at him in surprise and looks at John with the same amount of surprise. Dimmock walks out of the room and they follow. He hands over the bag to one of the forensics officers. "We're obviously looking at a suicide."

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." John agrees. Sherlock takes off his gloves and turns to him.

"Wrong. It's one _possible_ explanation of _some_ of the facts." He turns to Dimmock. "You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?"

"The wound was on the right side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left-handed." Liza jumped in. Sherlock demonstrates his point, pretending to try and point a gun to his temple on the right side of his head with his left hand.

"Requires quite a bit of contortion."

"Left-handed?"  
"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around his flat." He turns to Liza. She immediately catches on and points to the table next to the sofa.

"Coffee table is on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets; habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock smiles.

"No, I think you've covered it." John says tiredly.

"Oh, come on John. She's almost to the bottom of the list." He turns back to Liza. "Go on." Liza smiles and points towards the kitchen.

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Sherlock smiles proudly and turns to Dimmock.

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the _right_ side of his head. Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. _Only_ explanation of _all_ the facts."

"But the gun: why…"

"He was _waiting_ for the killer. He'd been threatened." Sherlock interrupts. He walks away and begins to put on his scarf, coat, and gloves.

"What?"

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John explained.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in."

"And the bullet?" Dimmock asks.

"Went through the open window."

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of _that_?!"

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it."

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

"Good! You're finally asking the right questions." Sherlock says condescendingly as he dramatically puts his hand into his glove. He turns and walks out, Liza on his tail. John looks at Dimmock and points apologetically towards Sherlock and follows him out.

* * *

They arrive at a restaurant where Sebastian is having lunch with either clients or work colleagues.

"… and he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done!"

"Or can it?" Liza cuts in as they make their way towards his table. She looks suspiciously at Sebastian, who looks up at her with confusion. Sherlock just rolls his eyes.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." Sherlock started.

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?"

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders – someone who worked in your office – was killed."

"What?"

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John adds.

"Killed?" Sebastian asks shocked.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock answers sarcastically. Sebastian puts down his glass of water and nervously runs a finger through the inside of his shirt collar.

Liza patiently waits outside the men's bathroom while Sherlock and John continue questioning Sebastian.

"Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so…" Sebastian explains while washing his hands.

"… you gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John continues. Sebastian grabs a towel and starts drying them off.

"Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had."

"Who'd wanna kill him?" John asks.

"We all make enemies."

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." Sebastian's phone beeps.

"Not usually. 'Scuse me." He takes out his phone and looks at the message. "It's my Chairman. The police have been on him. Apparently they're telling him it was a suicide."

"Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered." Sherlock cut in.

"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that."

"Seb." Sherlock says sternly.

"… and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." Sebastian walks away. John waits until he leaves and turns to Sherlock.

"I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." They walk out and Liza starts with her questions.

"So? What'd he say? Did he know anything?" Sherlock continues walking, ignoring Liza's questions. John looks at her and waves her along. She sighs dramatically. "You guys never tell me anything…"

* * *

Back at 221B, Sherlock has the printed photographs of the graffiti on Sir William's portrait stuck up around the mirror above the fireplace. He sits on a chair with his back to the dining table, carefully studying them. John walks in and drops his jacket onto his chair.

"I said, "Could you pass me a pen?"" Sherlock says without taking his focus off of the pictures. John looks around the room, curious as to who he was talking to.

"What? When?"

"Bout an hour ago." John sighs.

"Didn't notice id gone out, then?" He picks up a pen from the table next to his chair and without looking, tosses in in Sherlock's direction. He catches it, still not looking away from the pictures. "And what about Liza? She's here, isn't she?"

"She's out." John looks at him.

"Out? Out where?" Sherlock simply shrugs. John sighs and shakes his head. Not wanting to go any further on the subject, he walks over to the mirror and looks at the pictures. "Well, I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?"

"It's great. She's great." John says absently.

"Who?" John looks at him.

"The job."

""She"?"

"…It." Sherlock looks suspiciously at him for a moment and jerks his head to the right.

"Here, have a look."

"Hmm?" John walks over and looks at the open webpage on the computer. There's an article with the headline, "Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for the police". Next to the paragraph is a picture of a bald man and the article starts: _An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesperson said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in…_

"The intruder who can walk through walls." John says.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon." John straightens up and looks at Sherlock.

"God. You think…"

"He's killed another one."

_**Dun, dun, dunnn! Hey everyone! Im back! Sorry it took so long. In the meantime, i want to bring attention to a couple of the reviews i got. **_

_**Missy Chrisy - Thank you for your review! I really appreciate the feedback. If you've noticed, i took your suggestion in this chapter. Hope you like it! :)**_

_**Lily - Thanks for your review! I love, love, love the detail of your review. I tried to sneak in a little of Liza in there where she deduced her surroundings like Sherlock would do. Hope you liked it. I am also going to feature some more of your suggestions in later chapters. Again, i really, really appreciate your review. :)**_

_**And to anyone else. If there's anything else i could do to make the story more enjoyable, let me know. :) I really appreciate suggestions/comments. Thanks again! :)**_


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